The Key
by Butterfly Conlon
Summary: He had stated in the beginning that it was to be like this. He had said that he was to never be tamed and that I was a fool for fancying for even trying. My feelings for him have never waned, though I have grown weary sometimes of waiting for him. He was


Disclaimer: I in no way own anything pertaining to Newsies, they belong to Disney.

Note from Author: Was originally a one-shot I wrote yet planned to make into a multi-chapter work. I think it works best alone.

THE KEY

The room was dark, as dark as the raven's feathers. I was lying on my side, my head resting on my outstretched arm. The ungodly lumpy mattress dug into my side, almost causing me to shift to a more palpable position for another time that only God Himself knew.

Yet, I did not. My body was utterly exhausted, waiting impatiently for slumber to overtake me. Though my mind was brutally awake and acutely aware and my sharp ears picked up the slight creak of the door as it opened inwardly. A silent smile haunted my lips at his gesture of being considerate of me. As though his slight fall of footsteps against the antediluvian floorboards would not wake me.

I sighed tacitly. It was always like him to do so. Though, how could he possibly think that I could have fallen asleep without noticing him?

I played along. I closed my eyes, my body relishing in the gesture that perhaps I would finally allow it to rest for the night. I knew that couldn't be so I opened my eyes to have my gaze fall upon the moonlight drenched room. I stared at the lunar-light, my mind conjuring shapes with the strands of luminescence as I listened to him carefully shut the door behind him and pad across the room. He crossed in front of the foot of the bed while I pictured a maiden riding bareback upon a unicorn in one band of light.

The footsteps dissipated as I heard the creak of the old warped vanity and a sorrowful, weary sigh elicited simultaneously. My smile broadened. I needn't even look for I knew what was occurring. He was bent over the vanity, his palms upon the splintered top. His lean arms were taut in front of him, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. His head was lowered tiredly, strands of his slovenly hair falling in front of his shut eyes.

There was another creak and I knew that he had raised his head to gaze at his reflection in the darkened mirror. His comely appearance would be reflected lovingly to him in the shards of glass that still remained for they were enamored of him. His striking sapphire eyes would peer back at him, as endless and haunting and brilliant as blue diamonds. The diamonds would then roam over his unnaturally handsome visage. They would look upwards to the dirty blonde hair that now fell awry due to the professional hands that had left it so. Past the sloped nose to the heavenly lips that were stained with the lasting remnants of hell-fire red lipstick that could not be removed. He would make one last, futile attempt to brush at it before conceding defeat and lowering his gaze to his white collar-shirt signed with the signet of the red lip-lacquer of the whore. The lips that had passionately sought so many countless others would fall to a frown, knowing that he could not conceal the evidence no matter how hard he persevered.

The vanity creaked for a third time and I knew that he had turned over his shoulder, regarding me as his fingers absentmindedly caressed his crimson-wrought collar, the action just staining the fabric more severely.

My eyes immediately closed as I heard his footsteps near the bed. A moment later, the mattress fluxed under his weight as he placed himself on the edge of the right side of the bed, his side.

I could smell the perfume already. Most nights it took until he gathered me in his arms and brought me close until I could inhale it. But this night....this night is was overwhelmingly strong. I could taste the strong, heavy musky odor as he sat removing his shoes.

I stirred. Pretending as though I had been deep in slumber, I moaned slightly as I sat up, twisting my torso so that I faced him. Opening my eyes slowly as though they were heavy-laded with sleep to go about with the ruse, I regarded him.

Of course, as always, he resembled some beautiful ethereal creature; an exquisite moon-drenched mirage to my mortal eyes. The diamonds he called eyes widened at my waking as he turned over his shoulder. His wide eyes fell to me and he regarded me in an almost nervous manner before breaking into a forced grin, the diamonds glittering fiercely.

I reciprocated the gesture with a small simper as I turned to lie on my side to face him, my head propped on a bent arm and the moth-eaten sheets twisting about me. I could see the lipstick clearly. It was not the violent shade of red as I had imagined it to be, as all the other hues he brought home adorning his collar and mandible were. It was more of a darker shade, a plum have you.

He occupied the edge of the bed, an ankle resting on the opposite thigh as he removed his sullied shoes. He caught me gazing and his eyes flickered quickly from his collar to me, shining like bright chips of cerulean glass. "So, how was your day, doll?" he inquired, his seducing smile broadening. He fell back, the hideously thin mattress fluxing heavily with his weight.

His eyes glowed as did his smile as did he, rendering him to resemble some type of glorious moon god. He turned to his stomach and pulled himself closer to me, the light catching his hair and highlighting its brassiness.

The perfume was an overwhelming stench. I had to suppress myself with all I had from recoiling as he brought his arms about me, pulling me close to him. He was warm; most likely not just due to the heat of the mid-summer night. I shut my eyes as a shudder passed through me at the notion; the notion of him and a sultry harlot intertwined in the throes of passion in a decrepit bed at a cheap, run-down inn.

I opened my eyes once more and smiled at him, forcing myself to ignore the strong odor of the perfume, his mussed hair, and the violent red lipstick. "Fine, Spot, just fine," I answered simply.

His shining grin grew as he pulled me close, brushing his incredibly soft lips against mine, causing me to sigh with pleasure. He pulled away and sat up, content with shrugging off his worn, red suspenders as he began to unbutton his shirt, leaving me light-headed and with my eyes still closed. When at last I opened them, I found him listlessly balling the shirt before tossing it into a corner of the small room.

He then turned his attention towards me, running a hand through his crosswise hair, trying best to polish it once more. I smiled in unbridled ecstasy as he came to me, pulling down the thread-bare covers and pushing his bare chest to mine. I shivered as the cool metal of the key he wore about his neck pressed against my flesh.

The key. It was the same glittering quicksilver object that was always on the chain that hung about his neck and rested upon his lithe chest. Although I had pondered, I had never unraveled the mystery as to what its genesis was. In all the years that I had been with him, he had never raised the topic for discussion, so I had always remained silent and thoughtful on the subject.

"How was you day, Spot?" I inquired, biting my lower lip, desperate to steady my voice as the orgiastic sensations rode on my heels.

"The same as usual, doll," he responded, finding the hollow of my neck with hot kisses and placing his arms under my head, running his fingers through my hair.

The same as usual. Of course it was the same as usual. It was the habitual routine that was performed every night. When the sun touched the sky, he was no longer mine. He belonged to the world, to the exquisitely beautiful strumpets as they lured him to dark, uncomfortable spaces for a quick go.

Yet, at night, at night he belonged to me. Then the Leader of Brooklyn was mine and only mine.

His lips sought my flesh as pleasure shot through every last fiber in my body. It was a routine that I had grown accustomed to. I had grown accustomed to the red lipstick on the collar and the crumpled hair and the shortage of currency that he used to buy them with.

He had stated in the beginning that it was to be like this. He had said that he was to never be tamed and that I was a fool for fancying for even trying.

Yet, I must have succeeded somehow for he still returned to me at night. No matter what he did in the daylight, he still returned to me at the fall of dusk.

He may partake in all the beautiful, exotic luxuries that he may like in the day. Yet in the night he always returned to me; to where he was truly loved.

My feelings for him have never waned, though I have grown weary sometimes of waiting for him. Waiting for the day when he will settle down. I have dreamt of what it would be like to walk away, just walk away from him once and for all and fine someone who will be infatuated for me solely...

My train of thought was extinguished as the heavenly sensations of a sweet, hot passion raced through me. I began to tremble and inhaled deeply and allowed it to overtake me.

We did not parley for the rest of the night. I laid on my back, numbly, silently, as I regarded the ceiling above unblinkingly. I felt cold, everlastingly frigid. The sweet, hot temptation that I had felt in my union with him had been brutally extinguished and all I felt now was an empty cold nothing that filled the void in my soul. I wanted to turn my head to face him, yet I could not bring myself to do so. A lump manifested itself in my throat as hot, bitter tears pricked the corners of my eyes.

I squirmed in frustration as I tried my best to bridle them. Though, their threat just incremented with the notion that he was laying beside me with his back to me, sweaty and hot and haven taken me as he had taken one of his whores. The thought was unbearable and the scorching tears began to flow uncontrollably down my visage. I suppressed my sobs as best I could, silencing them slightly, though they racked through my entire body.

I immediately sat up and realized that the first rays of run were beginning to flood the room with a rich, golden light. The night was over. He was no longer mine.

The thought nearly severed my heart in twain as I quickly rose to my feet, a new determination overtaking me. I did not allow a single, tear-marred glance at him as I went quietly about my way gathering what few possessions I had acquired in life and packing them. I finished the task in a matter of moments, all of my life stored away in one little satchel.

The thought was devastating. Though not as devastating as I slowly turned about, the satchel gathered close to my breast, to regard the room one final time. Night had all but been erased and the selfish sun pushed its way in through the small window, lighting the small quarters. My eyes fell from the shattered looking glass that had held his reflection so many countless times to his clothing that lay strewn on the dusty floor to he himself.

My eyes finally fell upon him. He was slumbering peacefully, though in the course of my packing he must have turned for now he faced me. The sparkling blue diamonds were concealed as sleep-heavy lids covered them. A slight smile touched his lips, illuminating his entire face. His hair that had been ravaged the morn before was now even more so due to my inexperienced hands and fell across his brow, glinting in the sun. The threadbare covers were twisted within his legs, baring his lithe chest.

He was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. How could I have ever of even fathomed that a creature of his beauty could haven been caged?

I fought brutally to suppress the sob that rose in my throat. I was leaving. I was setting us free in one simple gesture; a gesture that had taken years of mustering courage to perform.

I turned sharply on my heel, the tears and hysterics overtaking me entirely. I clasped a hand to my mouth as I darted from the room. The last sight my eyes captured of him was that of the key, bright and silver and glittering lazily in the sun.

My ears still had not grown accustomed to the audible cacophony issued from the train station even though I had been there for an hour.

I checked. It had been only an hour. When I inquired, the tall conductor had produced his shining golden pocket watch with a flourish and read the time as seven A.M. I sighed, an exhausted sigh, and once more took my seat on the polished hardback wooden bench.

I could not believe that it still was so early. It seemed as though I had haunted that bench for hours, days, possibly years.

I watched the people. It was the streams of myriad persons that hindered me from grabbing my satchel and returning once more to his quarters in the lodging house and waiting like his whore so he could take me that night.

I straightened my ridged back against the bench and perked my ears so that I would be able to hear when the conductor called out the train to Chicago. Chicago. Me in Chicago. The very idea nearly caused a laugh to issue forth from my lips it was so incredulous. To reinforce my self that I was about to take such a journey I glanced down at the train ticket in my hand. Printed in clear, neat letters across the top was the word Chicago. The train departed at 7:15. Not too soon now.

The elation that coursed to me over the fact that I was finally starting anew was dashed to shards as I thought of him. I elicited a mournful sigh, furious at myself that I felt the hot tears once more. I had foolishly thought that miraculously he would have chased after me; that as I was boarding the train he would appear and shout out my name and bade me not to go.

Yet, he had not. As I sat on the bench, I had constantly looked in each and every direction in hopes that I would see him appear. So I would know that he did care for me. Though I knew that was an absolutely childish notion. I chided myself that I should have never even succumbed to him when I met him for the first time at the Christmas party at the Manhattan Lodging House. He had been absolutely beautiful then as he was now. He had gotten my blood high with a few cups of spiked punch and pulled me under the sprig of mistletoe hanging from the doorway. He had twined his experienced fingers into my hair and passionately pressed his lips to mine. And with one kiss I had been his ever since.

The piercing shriek of the whistle ruptured my thoughts as my reverie shattered. Once more, the sonorous sounds of the station assaulted my ears.

"Chicago! Seven-fifteen to Chicago!"

I rose quickly to my feet, my satchel close, as the conductor's voice rose out over the cacophony. My heart sped as I glanced at the conductor directing the passengers onto the designated car. I started forward, my ticket in hand, when I looked about once more. I looked quickly in all directions, my eyes searching through the hoards of people, wishing desperately that I would find him.

I did not. My heart severed in two, I approached the conductor and handed him my ticket. Though it was when he took it from my grasp and was preparing to rip it in half that I heard my name.

"EMILY!"

My beating heart leapt into my mouth, though I did not look up. I knew that it was my psyche brutally tricking me into believing that he was calling out my name. Or perhaps it had only been the wind.

Though I heard it for yet another time.

"EMILY!"

The bellows this time were much nearer and I could clearly make out the voice. I knew it was his undeniable Brooklyn inflection for I had allowed it to gently play in my ear canal in the throes of passion for how many years.

A choke rose in my throat and my vision was immediately blinded by tears. Overcome with emotion and blinking back the tears, I dare not turn to face him.

"EMILY!"

His voice was pleading and full of confusion. I turned over my shoulder to have my gaze fall upon him. He was utterly disheveled. He loped towards me, covering the distance between us, running in only one shoe, the other foot bare. His worn suspenders hung at his sides and the wind whipped backed his unbutton shirt, exposing his bare chest and the shimmering key that hung round his neck. His trot ceased as he approached the platform. From beneath the strands of awry hair the eye-diamonds glittered fiercely in bewilderment.

"Emily, where do you think you are going?"

The supreme rapture that had filled my soul at his appearance was replaced by another emotion: anger, anger brought on by fear that I would step off the train and give myself over to his old ways once more. It was enough to bring on a strong rage as I regarded him from below, demanding where I was to be off too.

"Chicago, Spot. That's where I'm going," I spat, pushing aside my infatuation for him and mustering as much venom in my voice as it would allow. I turned back to the conductor, whose patience was waning with each passing moment.

"Chi—Chicago?" he sputtered, as though not wishing to believe his words.

I ignored him, and as the conductor ripped the ticket in half so did my heart sear. I turned to enter the car when I felt a hand firmly grasp the crook of my elbow and roughly pull me from the boarding stairs and onto the platform a few feet below. I released a cry as my equilibrium dissipated. Though flustered, I quickly regained balance and stood facing him.

His brow was slicked with sweat and his bare chest heaved. Anger coursed through me and I suddenly felt brutally self-conscious for the people that swept past us bestowed incredulous glances our way.

I turned to him, anger sweeping through me. "What do you want, Spot?"

His breathing slowed and he regarded me with those blue diamonds and I felt naked for I knew he could peer into my immortal soul with them. "You, I want you, Emily," he whispered softly, his voice barely audible.

My heart beat furiously and euphoria coursed through my veins at his words—the words I had so long wished to hear. Yet, my mind would not pay heed to the rapturous sensations and it remained bitter and cold. Tears pricked my eyes as I tried to compose myself. "It's too late, Spot. Too late. Let me go."

With that, I turned and as gracefully as I could ascended the stairs once more, the conductor giving me a venomous glare. As I prepared to enter the threshold, I heard his pleading voice once more from behind me.

"But why now, Emily. Why now? Don't you know I need you?"

I turned around, my burning eyes falling upon his pathetic form. All the anger spilled forth from me like an erupting volcano. "Then why didn't you say that while you were out fucking your whores?"

My stinging words drew disgusted gasps from the proper gentlemen and ladies who boarded the train behind me. They found their mark as he winced as though he had been stabbed with a blade in the heart. He backed away from the stares, his glance dropped to the platform.

"That's what I thought," I murmured. I turned quickly and entered the train for I could not allow him to witness the hot tears as they slid down my cheeks.

I blindly shuffled my way through the masses of prattling passengers and quietly slid into the plush red couch in my designated compartment. The window that resided over my seat looked out onto the platform, and soon I heard his calls from under it.

"Emily! Emily! I love you!"

I released a choke as I peered out the window. He bounded madly underneath it, professing his love to me.

"It's too late!" I snapped, my body yearning for him to continue. Yet my heart had been scarred too many times to allow it.

"Emily, it's never too late! Don't you understand?" His cries paused for a moment, and, growing curious, I looked out the window once more to see him grasping the glittering silver key from about his neck.

"Here!" he shouted, taking the sparkling quicksilver object in his hand and tossing it towards me. I released a cry as I involuntarily raised myself to the plush seat and stuck my arms as far out the window as allowed. I caught the glistening thing in my grasp. It was as smooth as liquid silver.

I raised my eyes to his. He had given me his key. It had been such an incredulous gesture and I did not comprehend it until I looked into his blinding diamonds-eyes.

"Seven-fifteen to Chicago! All aboard!"

The conductor's sonorous bellows filled the train station. We regarded each other, unblinkingly. He gazed at me, his chest heaving and his eyes burning. My arms were still out the window, grasping the key by its silver chain.

As I stared at him, I felt the overwhelming sobs before they even appeared. They began in the pits of my stomach, overpowering like some great massive force. They soon broke, and my whole body began to convulse and shake. The hot, burning tears slid liberally down my already scorching cheeks as wild cries issued forth from my lips.

The train began to lurch forward. I began to scream as I was slowly being pulled apart from him. I called his name through broken cries and leaned my torso out the window as far as it would allow, holding my arms out towards him, my fingers desperate to make any sort of contact with him.

The train gained momentum and I was tossed against the window's edge, my screams only incrementing. Though in all my tear-stained passion, he only smiled. A smile alighted upon those full lips, a soft quiet smile that someone wears that they know a secret that no one else knows.

My sobs quieted as I tried to comprehend what in the hell he was smiling over. He raised his eyes from the tips of his shoes to meet my eyes. They immediately pierced my soul and I knew that I was the only other human being in the world that knew of the secret that was the genesis of the smile.

His wonderful smile broadened and he began to stride along side the train, finally breaking into a run. He was running on his lanky, slender legs right under my compartment. He extended his arm, his fingers brushing against the tips of mine momentarily.

"I love you, Emily O'Connor!"

And then the platform ended and the train pulled away. I remained with my entire upper body out the window until I could no longer see his glorious form. Then, I pulled myself inside and seated myself on the plush seat.

I my mind, heart, and soul were utterly exhausted and I released a sigh. I glanced down. I still held the key in my hand. It glittered like molten silver in the rays of sunlight that flooded the compartment. If there were any tears available, they would have flowed but there were no more left. I had cried my very last tear over Benjamin Conlon.

As the train rumbled on through arid plains and developing towns, the sun slowly sunk in the sky until it dipped behind the western horizon, ushering forth night. I awoke with a pounding skull to find myself stretched out over the seat. Reality suddenly dawned to me and I lifted my head, drawing myself into a sitting position. My entire body ached. It was as though I had an exquisite hangover, courtesy of the times when he had offered me alcohol.

I glanced out the window to see the new moon high in the indigo summer sky. I fancied I must have passed out due to pure exhaustion and slumbered the afternoon away. I elicited a sigh when I consciously felt an object in my palm.

I peered noncommittally down and had to look again. It was the key. The chain was twined around my fingers and the key itself lay in my palm, bright and glittering in the moonlight it caught.

So, he had given me his key. The key that had never to my knowing left his lithe neck. The key that he had never brought up for discussion. I shook my head and averted my gaze to the window, staring out at the dark landscape.

I then had a revelation. I glanced down at the glittering key—the key that glittered like his eyes—and finally realized its purpose. It was incredulous, really.

It was the key to his heart.

As the Emily O'Connor this morning, I would have collapsed into tears at his thoughtfulness. I then would have, by any means possible, found a way to dismount the train and flee back to him. It wouldn't have mattered if I could only have him at night. Let him have his whores, trollops, and harlots in the day! I must have meant something to him for he had given me his key!

Alas, I was the Emily O'Connor of the here and now. An ironic smile touched my lips as I glanced at the key for a moment longer, before I unceremoniously tossed it into the dark compartment, not knowing and not caring where it fell.

And I once again found myself sprawled on the plush, red seat as I fell asleep with a smile on my lips—the first smile I had ever fallen asleep with.


End file.
